


Clarity

by thatsmistertoyou



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Glasses, M/M, Popular Dan, nerdy Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmistertoyou/pseuds/thatsmistertoyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New glasses. Cute boy. Eye puns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

Phil wishes he had eaten more carrots as a child. His mum would always tell him that carrots were good for his eyes, but he didn’t listen. So now he’s stuck with a pair of glasses that are too big for his face, seeing the world through black frames, like he’s in a photograph looking out. If the world weren’t so crystal clear, he probably wouldn’t wear them at all. At the ripe old age of seventeen, his vision is diminishing.

He’s bitter.

 

His glasses slide down his nose as he trudges down the halls, clutching his books tightly to his chest. He can’t even walk the same with glasses - if he keeps his head bowed, like he usually does, they might just slide right off. But that risk, compared to that of making eye contact with the jerks in his maths class, (who had taken to calling him the most original name ever: Four Eyes) is minimal.

Phil stares down at his shoes, which go out of focus as his glasses slip down his nose, biting his lip and powering through the crowd. He collides with something solid, and his books fall to the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, stooping down and reaching for his history book. A hand makes a move to do the same, and Phil looks up, over the lenses. How sad is it that he can’t even see a person who is arm’s length away?

He pushes the glasses to the bridge of his nose, and Dan Howell comes into focus.

Dan Howell - the suavest, most confident boy in his year. Who isn’t afraid to share opinions in class and make sarcastic jokes at teachers. Who wears a leather jacket and a fuzzy hat when it gets cold. Who laughs like a goddamn hyena whenever one of his popular friends tells a funny story. Who is apparently talking to Phil.

Phil is too mesmerized by seeing Dan’s face so closely, so clearly, that he doesn’t hear.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you got glasses. Which is kind of an obvious question, I guess, because I can clearly see that you’re wearing them,” Dan says, handing him his history book.

“Lucky you,” Phil replies. “Can’t see anything clearly anymore.”

Dan laughs, and Phil probably blushes a little, because Dan has  _dimples_ that Phil hadn’t noticed from the other side of the classroom, and it is too damn adorable.

“I like them,” Dan declares, standing up and offering Phil his hand. Phil takes it, and Dan helps him clumsily hoist himself to his feet.

“Thanks.”

“That’s okay,” Dan says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maybe I’ll  _see_ you around?”

Phil grins.

“Not if  _I_ see you first.” Phil adjusts the frames, beaming. Dan smiles back, turns on his heels, and walks away.

Phil thinks that maybe his glasses aren’t the worst thing in the world.

x

Phil looks up when he ambles through the halls, secretly hoping that Dan will walk past. He smiles when he sees Dan striding towards him, but Dan doesn’t seem to be paying attention, his gaze fixed on something past Phil. He bumps into Phil’s shoulder.

“Whoops, didn’t  _see_ you there,” he says, turning around and walking backwards for a few steps so he can smirk at Phil.

“That was barely a pun!” Phil calls after him. Dan shrugs.

“Was worth a try.”

x

Phil starts sitting at the back of the classroom because he can see the board without being on top of it. Dan and his friends sit at the back of the class. Phil tells himself that’s unrelated.

One day, Dan passes him a note with terrible, smudged doodles: a drawing of an eye, a brain, a sketch of Phil with a scribbled-on fringe, the letter R, and the word ‘cute’ written in tiny letters. ‘I think you are cute’, Phil deciphers.

Phil’s pretty sure his cheeks have actually lit on fire, and he steals a glance at Dan, who raises his fingers to his forehead and salutes him, dried ink stains on the side of his left hand.

Phil tries to think of a clever message to send back before the class ends, and completely fails.

The bell rings, and his heart races when he approaches Dan outside the class.

“Hey,” Dan says shyly. “Did you like my note?”

“It’s a work of art,” Phil replies, all too much sincerity in his voice.

“Thanks. There aren’t enough eye-related puns in this world.”

“It’s a travesty.”

Dan laughs, and seems to steel himself, staring down at his feet.

“So, now that you can, you know, _see_  the screen - would you maybe want to go to the cinema with me sometime?”

“Yeah,” Phil replies.” _Eye_ would love to.”

“Okay,” Dan says, grinning at Phil. “I’ll text you?”

“You don’t have my number,” Phil points out. Dan shrugs dramatically, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Nothing gets past you, Phil. Guess you just have an,” he pauses for effect, “ _eye_ for these things.”

“Guess so,” Phil replies, suppressing a giggle. He takes Dan’s phone and puts his number into it, before retrieving his own.

“Now you have to give me yours. Eye for an eye.”

Dan grins at him and does so.

x

On Phil’s recommendation, they buy tickets for a horror film.

“I don’t really like horror films, so you’ll have to keep an eye on me,” Dan smirks as they sit down.

“Really? We didn’t have to see this one if you didn’t want to.”

“That’s okay. Will you still think I’m cool when I curl up in a ball in fear?”

“You’re always cool in my eyes,” Phil says, and Dan groans.

“What? Can’t I compliment you and make terrible puns at the same time?”

“No. Pick one.”

“Fine,” Phil sniffs. “You have a great smile and your dimples are adorable.”

Dan blushes, glaring at Phil like that was the worst thing he could have said.

“You gave me the choice, Howell. And we’re on a date. So I went for the more romantic option.”

Dan glances around the theater, frowning.

“Too bad I only have eyes for you, or I could just ignore your stupid flirtations.”

It’s Phil’s turn to blush, and Dan laughs in apparent victory.

“You win this time,” Phil mutters. “I should start calling you Heart Eyes Howell.”

“That’s me,” Dan quips.  

The lights go dim, and Phil offers Dan his hand.

“In case you get scared,” he whispers.

Dan nods, clasping their hands together on the armrest and leaning into Phil’s arm, even though it’s only the previews.

x

“You really do have beautiful eyes,” Dan tells Phil. It’s their second date and Phil still hasn’t gotten tired of the eye puns. The genuine compliments are harder to navigate.

“They’re like three colours at once.”

“Too bad they don’t even work properly on their own.”

The corners of Dan’s mouth quirk up.

“I’m sure they can’t be that bad.”

“They really are. Without my glasses, I can only see things that are extremely close up.”

Dan seems to consider that, scooting a bit closer to Phil on the park bench.

“Like this?” he asks, his face drawing nearer to Phil’s. He moves Phil’s glasses up, so they push his hair back and rest on his forehead.

“Still blurry,” Phil says.

Dan moves closer still, his breath fanning across Phil’s lips.

“Now?”

His face is actually  _too_ close, to the point where Phil can only look at his eyes - a warm, chocolatey brown - lest risk going cross-eyed.

Phil’s heart is pounding, but he presses on: “Still not close enough.”

Dan seals the distance between them, and his lips are soft and tender against Phil’s for a few moments.

He pulls back, smiling shyly and placing the frames back on Phil’s nose.

Phil thinks that his glasses are most definitely  _not_ the worst things in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> So those outfits that they wore to Zoe’s party happened and then I was thinking about high school AUs so. And then I tried writing in present tense.


End file.
